Darth Vader Has What Voldemort Wants
by Respecter of Persons
Summary: This is a sophisticated look at a duel between two epic villains. The story goes deeper into Star Wars lore to depict a more realistic encounter. A plausible method to bring the two together is used to enrich the believability. I'd love serious feedback.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Harry Potter, but I am paying homage to two great storytellers.**

**Author's note: There have been a few stories about this hypothetical duel. Many people jump to the conclusion that Darth Vader would easily Force choke Voldemort and that would be it. Let me draw your attention to the experience of dealing with the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force. If you've read The New Jedi Order, you'll understand what I'm saying. Voldemort is also from another galaxy. See how that changes things.**

**1 Quest for Power**

The room was dim and smoky, if it could be called a room at all. It was more a rough-hewn cave, but it was a busy place. The walls were lined with shelves and the shelves were filled with books, boxes, and jars. The books were ancient, the jars contained a horrific collection of dead and preserved creatures, whole or in parts, but the boxes were not open for inspection.

The centre of the room was crowded with worktables, strewn with a variety of glass beakers, cauldrons, and other curious tools. There were several candelabras hanging from the rock ceiling that cast a dim dirty light on everything.

Several curious-looking people occupied the room. A few seemed to be scurrying about timidly but busily. Everyone seemed to orbit one; the one who brooded in the centre. He was wearing a loose gold colored robe with fine figures and runes embroidered in red all about it. His bald head was angled down; his penetrating eyes were studying a parchment. It was a strange parchment. If you looked at it long enough, you swore the text changed.

He took a heavy breath through two narrow slits that were all he had for a nose, and then he exhaled his dissatisfaction. Despite all the vain praise and endless words of blind confidence heaped upon him by the sycophants in his midst, he was not feeling quite as grand as he felt he should. His most recent encounter with Harry Potter had not gone as expected; it did not go well at all. He was caught totally by surprise with the pairing of the wands – his and Potter's. He was angry at himself for not seeing that obvious connection. What was worse, the magic released by that pairing turned against him. He was shocked by that turn of events and though he would never admit it, not even to himself, it scared him. That whole experience left him feeling morose and angry.

There was no doubt in his mind he could destroy the boy who had become his most hated nemesis, or anyone else that got in his way; but, he still felt a nagging anxiety to be cautious, to be fully prepared. It never hurt to be better prepared in any event. For this reason, he planned a quest; a quest for power.

Lord Voldemort had created for himself a life of hunger and lust; hunger for power and lust for greatness. Not greatness as is portrayed in history books, but a total, tyrannical, and terrifying mastery of all the world of magic - and even the world of muggles. He expected to own the total and complete loyalty of everyone around him. More than that he craved control; everyone and everything in his world would do his will.

Just then one of his servants, Mortimer Buggle, cried out in excitement. "Master, I found something!" He bounced over to where Voldemort was sitting. Mortimer's gait was a comical hopping from foot to foot as he moved and it was exaggerated by the heavy book he was carrying. Mortimer dropped the book on the table where it landed beside Voldemort with a slam that kicked up dust all around it. Voldemort looked up crossly.

"S-sorry, Master." Mortimer stammered. "I found something that should please you. That wretched m-muggle-loving Potter will never again be able to win against you after this, my Lord."

Voldemort jumped out of his chair knocking it over and turned on Mortimer, "Win against me, Buggle? You think Potter won against me?" Voldemort was almost shrieking.

Mortimer's round body fell backwards onto the floor and in abject terror he cowered behind his chubby hands as he pleaded for mercy. "M-Master, I d-didn't mean that. P-p-please, Master, don't be angry with me. P-P-Potter was lucky that's all."

The latest encounter with Harry Potter had stoked Voldemort's temper and it was now as short as the fire from a muggle rifle. Mortimer was its latest victim. As if in anticipation, Nagini slithered into the center of the room and right next to poor Buggle who was blubbering apologies almost incoherently.

"Nagini, I see you are more sensitive than Buggle here. Perhaps he would be of more use to me as a meal for you. Would you like that, Nagini?" Voldemort hissed. The snake coiled up in anticipation and inched his great head closer to Buggle's quivering body. Nagini's tongue flicked out several times and actually struck Mortimer's face. That seemed to rouse Mortimer for one last effort to save himself. Mortimer pulled his hands away from his bulging eyes and cried out and desperation.

"B-but M-Master, I found s-something most useful to you. I am a l-l-loyal servant. I mean no d-disrespect…p-p-please my lord!"

Voldemort put his hand to his bald white chin as if contemplating Buggle's fate. "Speak, Buggle."

"M-my lord, it's an old magic, a s-series of spells and charms called," Mortimer's stammering was calming down and he paused to say the next phrase carefully. "Incantatum Argos Maximus Potens. It transports only the m-most powerful wizards to the greatest power they can attract. It is suggested that p-power begets power. The greater the wizard the greater the power they discover; and you my lord are the greatest w-wizard ever known." Mortimer's face was strained by desperate pleading, his hands clasped together into one round ball of dough - petitioning for his life.

Voldemort's face softened as he rocked back to think. "Buggle, I am intrigued. Show me what you have found, in detail."

Mortimer jumped up to the book and began frantically turning pages. The rest of Voldemort's timid servants, who looked on in cold terror, began to breathe again. Nagini, ever sensitive, also understood the shift in mood and slithered away knowing no meal was forthcoming this night.

Mortimer Buggle spent the next hour demonstrating what he had learned to his master. Voldemort soon forgot his trespass because Mortimer's discovery turned out to be of such mind captivating importance. The possibilities were tantalizing; an evil but small smile cracked his sickly smooth face as he imagined what he might do. Of course he could create the spells and charms that he would need. Rather he was totally engrossed with the idea of transporting himself to some hidden magic - greatest power he could ever know. He fantasized what sort of magic it would be. His mind drifted off; he imagined seizing it for himself and using it on his enemies. As the most powerful wizard of his age, or perhaps any age, the power that awaited him must be awesome indeed.

Voldemort was not at all afraid of going on this quest, even though he had to go alone. He was driven by his fantasies of the many possibilities of where his magic might take him; what he might discover. Most alluring was the possibility of discovering some arcane magic, long lost to his world, yet more powerful than anything currently known. That would not only give him tremendous power, but wielding something long forgotten would inspire new fear in all who learned of it. That would make his upcoming conquest all that much quicker and more total.

His only concern was that this magic might lead him right back to himself. Even if that happened, and all the effort to create the spells and charms needed for his quest was thus wasted, it made him smile at the thought that he was the most powerful wizard alive. Just then the thought occurred to him that he might be transported to Dumbledore instead. He viciously cast that out of his mind and resolved if that did happen, he would surely surprise Dumbledore and would immediately cast the Avada Kedavra curse at him and be done with it. That, too, would be a great victory.

Dazzled by the possibilities, Voldemort's mood improved - slightly. Anticipation grew into excitement which morphed into impatience. However, to create a unique magic like this required research and time. To save on both, Voldemort enlisted the efforts of all the wizards in his secret cave. Voldemort crafted the wording of the spells and charms by himself. That had to be done precisely.

As a precaution, Voldemort ordered one of his Death Eaters (none of whom knew anything about this cave or his quest) to create a small port key. It was a small smooth stone that Voldemort magically anchored to a corner of his cave. He placed it in a deep but narrow pocket on the outside of his robe. If he needed, he could insert a finger into the pocket and touch the stone. Voldemort and his small trusted group of servants worked for days. The days turned into weeks.

**2 The Deference of Power**

The heat was stifling despite his environmentally controlled suit. Being all black only made matters worse. The energy from two suns poured onto him and could not all be conditioned away. The rising temperature in his suit was causing his temper to rise along with it. The dust on this planet was everywhere and got into everything. His suit was dirty from just being in the air and he knew it would be impossible to ever get it all out. The fact that he was back here on this horrible planet, the planet he had tried so hard to forget, left him simmering.

Of course the Emperor commanded him to be here but there were others that could have completed this task just as well. The Emperor's Hand for example, is one who might have been just as effective. She was completely unknown to all but a select few. She could have easily infiltrated the target with ease. In his case, being arguably the most recognizable figure in the galaxy did cause him some problems; wherever he went, everyone knew he was there.

The Emperor had detected another plot against Imperial rule and had dispatched him to discover its source, depth, and danger. Despite his notoriety, he had quickly accomplished all three. The Force was very useful in defeating such plots; especially the Dark Side. This plot was yet another feeble venting of frustration and of little concern, but the emperor was growing something close to paranoid of late.

The thought crossed his mind, and not for the first time, that perhaps someday the Emperor would suspect him of a plot and take action. Of course this was the natural way of the Sith and would ultimately prove true; but he didn't want such a battle at this time.

Even so, Darth Vader felt that his power had indeed grown beyond that of his master but he was not done learning from Darth Sidious nor was he even slightly interested in heading the galactic government. For now, he was most eagerly engaged in increasing his depth of understanding into the nature of the dark side of the Force. His mastery of its tremendous power was still growing and his master was still aiding in that.

Tatooine; hot, dusty, and sparsely populated always seemed to attract more than its share of anti-imperial activity. The populace itself was quiet but there was an almost unending supply of travelers and among those travelers were many who came here to hide, plot, and bide their time. Maybe it was the corrupting influence of the Hutts. Perhaps it was time to put them in their place, once and for all.

The Hutts ruled this sector of the galaxy under the permission of the emperor. Their pride and arrogance were legendary and well known to Darth Vader. Though they posed no real threat to the empire, Vader was always quietly disposed to put them under greatly increased control. The Hutts cherished the belief, no assurance, that they were superior to all other species. Knowing this about their nature, Vader understood that increased Imperial control (meaning Human control) would oppress the Hutts to the same degree as slavery once did one young Anakin. Such a sweet revenge was not below Darth Vader, but at this time it was not practical. Besides, Jabba the Hutt proved very helpful on Vader's latest assignment, even if somewhat reluctant.

Three days earlier, Darth Vader arrived at Jabba's palace. Even though Imperial agents had been on site for two days to make preparations for Vader's arrival, he was delayed entry to Jabba's throne room.

Delay, was a relative term. Jabba's majordomo, Bib Fortuna, sent an underling to greet and halt Darth Vader. Fortuna knew of Vader's temper just as well as he knew Jabba's. To delay Vader was just as dangerous as disobeying Jabba. Fortuna could see he was caught between a rancor and a krayt dragon. Demonstrating that he was the master of deft maneuver he needed to be, he sent an underling to do the job while he waited at his master's side.

That poor soul was another Twi'Lek named Dam Russek. He was very eager to serve his master and in so doing, elevate his miserable existence. He saw Darth Vader enter the antechamber and rushed forward to intercept him with his arms out in front, palms forward, beseeching Lord Vader to halt.

"Greetings, my Lord. The Great Jabba will see you shortly." Dam spoke smoothly but firmly.

"I will see him now." Vader responded without breaking stride, or even turning his head.

Dam stepped in front of Vader and actually put his hands on Vader's chest. "No, my Lord, you must wait until called."

When the limp body of Dam Russek careened into the throne room, like a piece of orbiting space debris, Bid Fortuna knew he was correct is sidestepping that difficult situation. As Dam's body hit the ground with a dull thud, the almost ever-present noise that Jabba called music, came to a stop, as did all the chatter. Jabba turned his massive head in aggravation to see what interrupted his festivities.

The shadow of Darth Vader preceded the even darker presence of the man himself as he entered the dim throne room. He strode right to the centre of the room and didn't even alter his course a millimeter as the throng of assorted aliens pushed hard to get out of his way. Vader came to a petulant stop, right on top of Jabba's trap door leading to the massive pit below. Jabba noted the specific spot Vader choose and dispelled the brief imagination he had of dropping him to the creature below. Not even all of Jabba's arrogance could tempt him into making that mistake.

"Jabba." The electronically enhanced bass voiced boomed. "I have need of your assistance." It was a demand, not a request.

Jabba paused for a moment, perhaps a fraction too long. He mumbled Huttese to his majordomo, and Bib Fortuna translated, "Of course, Lord Vader, what can I do for you?"

"There is a group of…businessmen operating here on Tatooine that I need to locate. We know you have done business with them and you will tell me where they are. The leader goes by the name Castor Pollux." Vader watched Jabba's face intently though his darkly tinted lenses betrayed no hint of his glare.

Jabba paused for a longer moment, past the point of being resistant, before he answered; his deep Hutt voice baser than Vader's. Fortuna translated in a smooth and deferential tone. "I know of whom you speak, Lord Vader. This Human has been very profitable for me but I have not seen any behavior that should concern one such as you."

"It is none of your concern why I wish to know the location of Pollux, only that you tell me where I can find him."

Jabba rocked back at the firm snub and Bib Fortuna braced himself to flee the violent outburst that was sure to explode from Jabba. No being had ever addressed Jabba so disrespectfully, and lived. Thoughts raced through Jabba's massive mind. He could smash this arrogant masked human in an instant. Those thoughts were quickly erased by images of Imperial Star Destroyers bombarding his palace from space and legions of Stormtroopers stomping over the rubble.

Jabba licked his wide lips with his sickly slimy tongue as he prepared his answer. Perhaps Vader was baiting him. Here in the middle of his throne room, with scores of servants and armed guards, could anyone, even the infamous Lord Vader dare hope to survive? What arrogance was this? Jabba once again thought about the terrible creature that lay just a few meters beneath Vader's feet.

Jabba motioned the cowering Bib Fortuna closer. In whispered Huttese Jabba responded through Bib. "Of course, my Lord. My majordomo will provide you with that information."

Without so much as a nod, Vader spun around on his heel and strode briskly from the room. Bib Fortuna rushed after him. A murmur of low voices hummed across the room. Jabba would have to sacrifice one of them tonight; both to pacify himself as well as to reestablish his dominance.

**3 Unexpected**

It had taken nearly four months of hard work to complete the spell. Voldemort was in an evil temper for most of the time but in the last week, his demeanor changed. He became much more agreeable and even a trace cheery. Ever since poor Mortimer Buggle had nearly become a meal for Nagini, no one in the cave ever even mentioned Harry Potter. He was transformed into another version of 'He who shall not be named.'

Voldemort was ready. He had tested his port key, had filled a magical bag with magical tools, potions, and even a tent. A certain Miss Granger was the only one likely to come close to his thoroughness. In the four months that passed, Voldemort imagined all the possibilities: where he might go, what he might encounter, who or what might try to stop him, and he packed accordingly.

It was almost a certainty that the power he sought would be far far away. The land known as Great Britain was well covered by the wizarding world and there were not many secrets left there. Voldemort looked around his cave, noted his followers all looking busy, and decided it was time.

Voldemort waved his arms majestically and dramatically as he addressed them all. "The time has come for me to embark on my journey. You have all served me faithfully. When I ascend to rule this world, you will all be rewarded beyond your greatest dreams. While I am away, and I don't know how long I will be gone, I would like you all to rest. You will leave here and return home. Wait there until I call for you again. Remember, you will tell no one of this place or the work you did here. In time, you will take your places in the history books of wizarding. One or two of you might even write those books, I dare say." Voldemort looked around the room; they were all staring at him like comical statues. With a flick of his hand he dismissed them "Now go."

Eight pairs of feet fumbled and bumbled their way to the door. This lot was not like the Death Eaters: regal, slick, and powerful. They were a different sort, more attentive to their minds than their physical performance: they were clumsy, out of shape, and even a little funny – especially Buggle. He being the last to leave, turned and bowed his way out the door.

Voldemort took one last look around. He magically sealed the entrance and then went to work. There were several charms that needed to be put in place before casting the spell. One by one they were established. There were runes that needed placement. That, too, was done. Now all that was left was to cast the spell. Voldemort heard, or perhaps felt something and he turned to look. _Ah yes. _ He thought to himself. "Nagini, I almost forgot about you. You cannot come with me I'm afraid." In a flick of his wand, Voldemort froze Nagini. That would keep her entirely safe until Voldemort could reverse the curse. Nagini would not even notice.

Voldemort took a deep breath and raised his arms high above his head. In a loud, sonorous voice, he cried out, "Incantatum Argos Maximus Potens!"

There was a rush of wind that began to circle Voldemort. As it did so, a light blue magical light began to grow in strength. The wind circled faster and faster; Voldemort's robe and satchel began to flap in the vortex. The light intensified into a cyan starburst that filled the cave so brilliantly nothing else could be seen. All of a sudden, there was a loud clap and everything stopped: the wind, the light, and the dust settled. Voldemort was gone.

Everywhere was sand and dust - and heat. Voldemort looked up to the sun and nearly stumbled from shock. He raised his hand to shield his brow and blinked several times. He didn't see the sun - he saws suns! There were two stars in this sky. This was nothing he had expected. Not in all his months of preparation, not even in his entire life, did he ever prepare for this. He was on a different world. His mind swirled. He doubted his preparations in earnest. This was something for which he had no experience. _Well then, I must be some wizard indeed, finding a new world. Dumbledore in all his vaunted expeditions has never accomplished the like. No wizard has!_

Voldemort turned his head down away from the suns. His white, snakelike head burned under the heat. He pulled his hood up and looked around. He was standing on the side of a low ridge of tan colored sand. Out in front of the ridge was a baked expanse that went on as far as the eye could see. There was nothing visible to catch his eye. He turned back to the ridge and started to walk up. Perhaps there was something to see on the other side.

After just a few steps, Voldemort heard something strange, like the roar of a waterfall rapidly advancing behind him. He spun around with his wand ready and nearly stumbled from shock yet again. The roar was coming from a large mechanical object flying past him. It had no wings and appeared to levitate as if by magic. MAGIC!

The craft was very difficult to describe other than the color, brick red. Its surfaces were smooth and looked like half of a butter beer barrel, cut from top to bottom. The half-barrel was laid flat but moved as though barrel ends were the sides and the rounded edges were front and back. Add to that, a superstructure shaped like a large rounded wedge was hammered into the barrel, from back to front. That was not exactly it but that was the best Voldemort could make of it. The other striking feature he saw as it passed by; the back of the wedge contained three brilliant lights, like three mini cyan stars. Quickly it disappeared over the ridge and Voldemort ran up the slope to see it again.

By this time, he had learned enough to not be surprised by what he saw - almost. Upon cresting the ridge, his eyes were immediately ripped from the strange flying thing to something so much more spectacular. Before him, spread out like the vast expanse of sand he just saw, was a settlement, a city even, but like nothing muggles had ever created. The buildings were low and colored much like the sand. They were mostly rounded on top but a few were larger and squared. There was a swarm of objects flying over this city. Glancing back at the one that startled him, he saw it merge with the rest in the distance. Could this whole world be magical? That thought at once thrilled and concerned him.

Voldemort raced down the far side of the ridge and towards the city with a hurried pace he was not accustomed to. He quickly began to sweat and his breath became labored. He hadn't felt like this since he was boy in Hogwarts. Fortunately, the city was not too far off. Nevertheless, Voldemort was bathed in sweat. He reached into his satchel and withdrew a flask of water. He took a long draught and resumed his march.

As he approached, he began to see the residents. Many were on foot, a few floated along the ground in small magical craft, and fewer still rode atop strange creatures that had never before graced his eyes nor imagination. Voldemort entered the city and was not at all surprised to see that there were humanlike creatures that were not at all human. _Are these the magical creatures of this world?_ The sights and sounds and even smells thrilled Voldemort nearly as much as the day he learned from Dumbledore that he was a wizard. There was so much to learn here, so much to discover, and somewhere nearby was the greatest power he could find. But where could it be?

Just as he was contemplating his course of action, an ugly creature turned a corner and crashed into him. Voldemort had never seen anything like it. It walked on very long arms but it held its short legs up as if they were arms. One of those tucked away legs flung out and kicked, or was it punched, Voldemort on the leg. Simultaneously, it let off a string of gibberish that, no matter what the language, could only be interpreted as cursing.

Voldemort looked at the vile creature with pure hatred. "Curse me will you?" He pulled out his wand and without bothering to look around spat, "Ira Mentis."

The creature's eyes got a dull look about them that slowly added an increasing menace, which when combined, resembled a Mountain Troll on a rampage. Voldemort kicked it fiercely and it crashed into the street. Regaining its hands, it charged at the nearest pedestrian and began kicking/punching it. When that pedestrian fled the assault, the ugly creature randomly attacked another humanoid, and then another.

Voldemort looked on, laughing airily. The enchanted and angrily befuddled alien attacked yet again; this time he charged at a rather rough looking humanoid dressed in what looked like armor of sorts. It had a mask fully covering its face but it looked strong like a male. Within moments, the armored humanoid pulled out a blaster and burned a hole through the ugly creature's head. Without so much as three seconds regard, the humanoid walked away from the still smoking creature.

Voldemort stopped laughing - satisfied. _Most interesting!_

Voldemort was about to conduct another magical experiment but something caught his attention. About fifty metres further down the street, a black figure strode on to the road and headed in his direction. As soon as the other occupants of the street saw the dark figure, they scurried to get out of sight. Voldemort stopped near the side of a building to watch.

This creature was tall and had a flowing black cape. On his chest was a box with curious controls. His black helmet gleamed in the intense sunlight. Beneath, was a mask with jet eyes. Ah that mask, it was an inspiration: part fearsome and part mystery. His Death Eaters could adopt this mask to good effect. _Is this creature a man?_ Whoever he was, he was something to behold. _Perhaps, he is why I am here._

As the tall creature drew even with Voldemort, he succumbed to the undeniable draw he felt towards him and stepped out from the shadows to greet him.

In an instant, the man became a tall, black blur as he whirled to face Voldemort. As if from nowhere a silver wand appeared in his hand, a crimson glow rose from its end. Like a shard of captured star, the light was contained in about the space of a sword. It crackled and hissed then settled into a hum like a swarm of angry wasps.

Voldemort stopped and stared into the jet-black mask. All he heard was an ominous whisper. 'Ohhh perrr. Ohhh perrr.'

**4 Undetected**

Darth Vader was startled and even a little shaken by the sudden appearance of this alien. Vader caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned to see a hooded humanoid walk out of the shadows. Darth Vader was used to feeling every living thing in the Force. Even from the time he was a small boy, the Force augmented his five physical senses.

However, the first moment Darth Vader had any awareness of this alien was when he moved out from the side of that building, catching his eye. Even now, as Vader stared at him from behind his ignited light saber, he could only see him. What shook Vader so much was the fact that he could not sense this alien in the Force. He had never conceived that there was any creature that was undetectable to the Force. _The emperor will want to meet this alien._

Vader studied this mysterious alien very closely to assess the threat. He couldn't identify the species. The alien had a body very much human in nature, only the face was different. The eyes and mouth were similar but seemed to lack the extra flesh a human face bore, as though this creature suffered a catastrophic burn, but without the scarring. His skin was whitish in tone and taught. Most striking was his lack of a nose. Instead there were just two narrow vertical slits. Despite the facial differences, his expression was readable. Notwithstanding he was staring at the crimson blade of the galaxy's most infamous tyrant, this alien showed no trace of fear. More than that, his face radiated self-assurance, arrogance, and even curiosity.

That, more than anything, piqued Darth Vader's interest. "Who are you?" In response, the alien spoke clearly and in a soft, mid-pitched voice. The words were audible but unintelligible. Vader asked, "Do you speak Galactic Common?"

The alien pulled a slender wooden stick from the sleeve of his robe, waved it in a curious pattern in front of his face while muttering softly. When next he spoke, Vader understood him perfectly. "I am Lord Voldemort. It seems…I have come here to meet you. However, I must confess I do not know how you are." Voldemort offered a very slight bow.

Darth Vader took a few moments to respond. This alien offered his identity but exposed even more mysteries. The first thing Vader noticed was that the alien's mouth did not match the words he heard. That was no small thing. How could any creature wield such a power? This was not the Force, but it was power indeed – and a power that had effect on Darth Vader. Secondly, he seemed to have no comprehension of who Vader was. Where in the galaxy could a creature come from and not know about Darth Vader? Perhaps he was from the Unexplored Regions. The Chiss were known to be powerful there. He'd have to follow up on that. Third, he referred to himself as a lord. His demeanor and even the slight display power seemed to support that claim. Lastly, he claimed he came to meet Darth Vader.

Vader, at last, deactivated his lightsaber and shifted his position to stand erect before Voldemort. "I am Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith. What planet do you come from?"

This was a question Lord Voldemort had never been asked before. Nevertheless, he knew the answer. "I am from planet Earth; a very different place than this."

"You came here to meet me?" Vader's voice synthesizer conveyed a hint of threat in that question.

"Power, attracts power." Was all Voldemort chose to reveal.

"Come with me, we have much to talk about." Vader turned and gestured to Voldemort to walk beside him. Voldemort stepped alongside Darth Vader as they walked back the way Vader had come.

After walking a few paces, Voldemort broke the silence. "Lord Vader, tell me about your world."

"My world? This is not my world." That was a lie. For a moment, Vader wondered if he would even call Coruscant his world. His Super Star Destroyer, the Executor, was as much his home as any planet. "I will take you to my world, Lord Voldemort. There you will meet my master."

Voldemortcould not hide the surprise on his face. "You have a master?"

Vader looked sideways at this alien. Was he really that ignorant_?_ "The Emperor," was all he answered.

Vader and Voldemort walked on in silence for a few minutes. Vader reassessed his purpose for being on Tatooine. He had broken up the little insurrection, yet there were a few loose ends to tie up. When this alien stepped out of the shadows, everything changed. Here was a creature that could not be detected in the Force.

Vader tried to use the Force to grab hold of Voldmort's body, his clothing, even the slender stick he carried, but could not. That was alarming. If Voldemort represented an entire race that was immune to the Force, they could pose a serious threat.

Perhaps the Force guided him to this meeting. Together, he and the emperor would unravel this mystery. Presently, the most important mission for Vader had become getting Voldemort on his shuttlecraft.

Vader noticed that Voldemort was looking all around as they walked. He seemed especially interested in the freighters and shuttles angling up and down, to and from space. He also noticed that he was still hanging on to his slender stick. Curious.

"Where are we going?" Voldemort finally asked.

"If you are to meet my master, you need to come to my ship."

"Is he powerful in the use of magic?"

"Magic?" Vader responded incredulously. "There is no magic here. The emperor and I master the use of the Force."

"No magic?" Voldemort pointed up at a freighter moving off on repulsors and asked, "By what power do they fly off?"

At that question Vader stopped. "Where is your world, Earth?"

"In relation to here, I do not know."

"How did you arrive on this planet?"

"Magic brought me here."

"There is no magic here." Darth Vader stared at the strange alien, trying to detect if he was genuine. Who would not know how craft maneuvered? "Those craft move by the harnessing of energy. Our technologies are very powerful."

"Technology! You mean like Muggles?" Voldemort looked at Vader with unsuppressed disgust. "This is not magic? Just advanced Muggle…technology?" Voldemort hissed. "And you, Lord Vader, are you a master of technology?"

Vader responded darkly, "Technology serves me but I am a master of the Force. Now tell me, Lord Voldemort, how do you come by the title, Lord?"

Voldemort turned to face Vader. "I am the most powerful wizard of my world. I am a master of magic."

"Magic is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."

Voldemort's face tightened even more than it already was as pure contempt leaked out. He waved his wand and muttered. Immediately the usually hot blue Tatooine sky darkened. A thick smoky cloud formed overhead; the smoke coalesced into a writhing snakehead with glowing, green eyes. "Show me this Force, my Lord, or would you like me to show you my magic?" Voldemort yelled mockingly.

_This one is dangerous._ Vader considered cutting Voldemort in two but thought better of it. It was more important to lead this one on so that he and the emperor could work on him together. "Better to leave that to my master. He will reveal all that you desire to know."

**5 Duel of Egos**

Lord Voldemort was perplexed, and somewhat angry. His spell was supposed to bring him to the greatest power his magic could find. The spell was so strong it brought him to another world. That reality still awed him. What bothered him most was that the power he found was non-magical. Lord Vader scoffed at the mention of magic and instead referred to something called the Force. Could that be magic, but by another name? It was time to see.

"Lord Vader, my magic brought me to you, not your master. It is you alone I want to meet. If your master were in possession of greater power, my magic would have brought me to him. I am here on a quest and I believe it is you who will help me. Tell me, what is this Force of yours?"

Vader digested what he had just been told as he kept walking. "The Force is the greatest power in the Galaxy. It exists in everything and flows through everything. But there are only a select few who have the ability to discern it, and fewer still that can control it. The force has the ability to sense a mind or to destroy a world. It also acts as a guide. It steers our destiny and can presage the future. It augments our natural abilities and can even prolong life. I know of no greater power."

_No greater power?_ "On my world, magic does those things. Perhaps they are not so different. How does a Lord wield power with the Force?"

"Someone with the innate ability to sense the Force must learn to wield it. It takes years, a lifetime even, to master it. I was born with a greater ability than most; yet, even now, I grow more powerful."

"I see. That, too, is true of my magic. By what mechanism does the force do your bidding?"

"I will it and it is done." Vader responded, not very helpfully.

Voldemort was starting to grow impatient. This impenetrable master of the Force was not forthcoming with the information Voldemort sought. There must be some tool, like a wand, that focused the power of this Force. With that, perhaps Voldemort could attain the power Lord Vader spoke of. Perhaps that thick, silver wand Vader carried was his focus.

Vader led them around a corner and onto a dead-end end road. About a two-minute walk down the road, sat a dark gray craft. Being that this road was a dead-end, Voldemort assumed this was Lord Vader's ship. It had three tall, vertical wings that gave it the appearance of a horizontally compressed 'W'. On the tops of each, lights were blinking. In front was a structure, trapezoidal in shape, which sloped from the body of the craft down towards the ground. Most of the elongated trapezoid was dominated by a large black screen. Through it, Voldemort sensed others staring at him. After a few more steps, Voldemort noticed a ramp protruding from the belly of the ship and resting on the ground, guarded by four men in strange white armor_._

Voldemort tried again for answers. "Lord Vader, I have seen nothing here that would inspire me. The creatures of this world are like playthings to me. How do I know you would not also be my plaything?"

Darth Vader resisted a very powerful urge to cut Voldemort from scalp to coccyx but answered instead "My master, using the Force in all its subtleties and in all of its might, destroyed the previous and corrupt galactic government and claimed it for himself. He defeated the most powerful Force user known to the Jedi Order and destroyed several of their most potent enforcers in personal combat. He has ruled for over two decades and no one has effectively challenged his power; despite repeated attempts. He commands the allegiance of quadrillions of Imperial citizens. Everyone who has opposed him has failed. His enemies live in mortal fear. Through him, order has been maintained throughout the galaxy. I serve to continue that reign, and yet, I grow even more powerful than he."

At last Voldemort smiled. "Then I have come to the right place. Lord Vader, how may I learn to wield this power for myself?"

Darth Vader regarded him for a moment. "The Force is not with you, Lord Voldemort. I don't know why you are here, or what power you possess, but I can detect no power in you."

At that Voldemort stopped. No one could tell him that he had no power, not even this ominous, masked lord. Other than the wide berth all the creatures on this world seemed to give Lord Vader, he had not seen any evidence of power in him. Clearly he had some reputation, but so did Gilderoy Lockhart.

Acidly, Voldemort responded, "I have power over death itself. I was almost destroyed once before, an accident at my own hand, but death could not claim me then and I have grown immeasurably from that. Should I be struck down, I will only rise again. I have been brought to this world to acquire more power. No one will stand in my way. Not you, nor your master."

Darth Vader took a few steps away from Voldemort then turned to face him. His silver wand jumped from his belt into his awaiting hand, but it was not yet ignited. _So he does have some small sort of power._

Having noticed the change in their Lord's body language, the four Stormtroopers guarding the Shuttle's ramp fanned out evenly on either side of Darth Vader, but they stayed back about forty metres. Their rifles were pointed at Voldemort, set on stun.

Vader's vocal synthesizer added to the menace of his words. "You are nothing but a magician Lord Voldemort. My master and I have together sought the mysteries of overcoming death. If you can do as you say, perhaps we can help each other. Now come with me and my master will determine the truth of your words."

"I will not go to your master. My magic brought me to you. If you will not help me get what I want, I will take it for myself." Voldemort eyed Vader's lightsaber – wondering.

Upon hearing that, four Stormtroopers raised their rifles. This action was not lost on Voldemort. His face screwed up into a snarl and he swung into action. He flicked his wand to the left and cast a stupefy curse at the outmost stormtrooper. Instantly, he spun right and breathed in a rush, "Petrificus totalus," at the rightmost one. Before either had hit the ground, he pointed his wand at the second stormtrooper on the right and cried aloud, "Imperio!"

The fourth stormtrooper had not fired. The stun setting on his blaster rifle affected a cone of area, rather like the blast of a shotgun. Lord Vader was too close to the target to risk a shot at that angle so he sprinted ahead to gain a better position. However, the other stormtrooper was now under Voldemort's control and had no such reservations. He fired.

Darth Vader sensed the danger at once and leapt with a mid-air somersault backward over the arc of the stun blast, which caught the fourth stormtrooper on the run. The running stormtrooper crashed down, a useless jumble of dusty white armor. Vader turned to the stormtrooper who had fired and force-pushed him into the wall behind him. He, too, collapsed in a pile of armor. Silence returned.

Vader turned to face Voldemort. "You will learn to respect the power of the Force, or you will die." Again, he focused on Voldemort's windpipe – willing it to crush. He focused all of his mind and will, but nothing happened. His hand was outstretched, his fist clenched, as if crushing Voldemort's larynx by force of his grasp. Voldemort just stood there with a feral smirk on his snake-like face.

Giving in to rage, Vader ignited his lightsaber.

**6 Irresistible Forces and Immovable Objects**

The captain of Darth Vader's shuttle witnessed the whole scene in disbelief. By some unseen power, Vader's personal guard of four elite stormtroopers had been cut down. One of them had even turned traitor and was killed for it. In the four years he had the honor of shuttling Lord Vader around, never once had he seen evidence of the Force. Now, perhaps, there were two powerful Force-users about to duel. Being that one of them was his Lord, he activated the shuttle's blaster cannon.

Voldemort glanced derisively at Darth Vader's glowing lightsaber. "What is that? Some Muggle torch to light your way?" Voldemort mocked.

Rage. Voldemort's insolence and arrogance were two traits that Darth Vader despised in others. Voldemort reeked of both and Vader was no longer able to tolerate the stench.

With a booming growl fueled by unleashed emotion, Vader flung his ignited lightsaber at Voldemort, who ducked out of the way a little too slowly. Instinctively, Voldemort threw out his left hand to block Vader's blade. The spinning arc of the lightsaber sliced through Voldemort's hand as though it was not there. Voldemort's slit nostrils flared in shock as he watched his hand fall to the dirt. Nevertheless, he did not cry out. Vader's blade spun back around and he caught it perfectly.

"Your insolence has been your undoing. You should never have underestimated the power of the Force," Vader sneered. "Now taste my…torch!" He advanced on Voldemort in a rush. Just as he raised his lightsaber to strike, Voldemort muttered a spell and launched into the sky, trailing black smoke like a projectile from a slug thrower.

"Impressive," Darth Vader remarked to himself.

Voldemort landed on the roof of a building overlooking Vader's shuttlecraft. Still clutching his wand, he reached into his satchel with his remaining hand and withdrew a vial. He drank it down, thrust out his arm stump, and watched as the hand began to re-grow.

Vader was dumbfounded. The Force had never been able to do anything like that; nor had there been any hint of that kind of healing in any history he had been exposed to. This Lord was perhaps, dangerous. Vader motioned to the crew of his shuttle, his intentions clear.

The shuttle's blaster cannon swiveled to point at Lord Voldemort. In the next instant, Voldemort hurtled skyward trailing that black, smoky trail. The blaster cannon stitched the sky behind him in a vain attempt to track the rapidly moving wizard.

Voldemort curved sharply back towards Vader and the shuttlecraft and as he did so, he cried out in a loud voice, "Confringo!"

A bolt of energy traced the space between Voldemort's wand and the cabin of the shuttlecraft. In response, the shuttle's shiny black screen exploded away from the trapezoidal-shaped crew cabin and a scorching hot ball of flame ballooned out of the new opening. Black smoked continued to billow out of the hole as the blaster cannon fell flaccid on its mount.

By this time, Voldemort was arcing back for another pass. Ready, Vader jumped several metres in the air as another bolt of energy exploded sand and flame over the spot where Vader stood. Through his suit, he felt the flash of intense heat from that near miss. _He has the power to destroy my shuttle with a single word._

Fear. This new emotion slowly spread into Vader's psyche. Already enough rage was there to fuel the Dark Side power. Fear added a new urgency to that power; it responded accordingly.

Voldemort was coming around for a third pass. A few quick stunning spells pulsed at Vader. Effortlessly he caught them with his left hand; the surging Force energy dispelled them harmlessly. It appeared that Voldemort was, himself, stunned by his spells' failure because he passed by without launching another. Still, he looped back for yet another pass.

This time, Vader took the initiative. He gathered his power in the Force, fueled by rage and fear, and the Dark Side energy boiled in him viciously. As Voldemort circled back, Darth Vader carved a significant crater out of the Mos Espa street and hurled the material at Voldemort's speeding form. The road material, comprised mostly of packed sand and dirt, quickly diffused into an expanding cloud of dust and grit.

Voldemort was unable to avoid the blast. Forced to fly through it, his control deteriorated rapidly. He slowed and jinked to and fro. Vader watched triumphantly as Voldemort's body flailed out of control and he crashed into the street, not thirty metres from where Vader now stood.

Voldemort had slowed to a survivable speed before he crashed; his wand landed few paces away. Voldemort pushed himself up onto his knees, wiped the sand from his eyes, and reached for his wand. Anticipating that move, Vader performed the same feat he had just done, but on a smaller scale. A hand-sized chunk of road material launched itself in the air - this time at Darth Vader.

Voldemort shrieked, "No!" Through distressed eyes, he saw his wand lying on top of the tiny lump of dirt hurtling towards Vader. Vader caught the wand in his left hand, and, with Voldemort looking on, snapped it in two.

"Now Lord Voldemort, you will die."

Voldemort, with two perfect hands, reached into his satchel and pulled out another wand. Behind Vader's mask, his eyes went wide. A bolt of fear slashed through him but before he could react, Voldemort screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

A flash a green exploded at Darth Vader and he brought his lightsaber up to ward off the energy. The energy passed around his blade and slammed into his body. The force of the spell propelled Vader nearly ten metres backwards and his body crashed through some crates lying beside the road.

Pain. Darth Vader lay on the dirt, unable to move. Every muscle in his body was tight in spasm. Every nerve felt like the shock of a static electricity charge. His eyes felt like they were going to burst all over the inside of his tinted lenses. He had never experienced such a threshold of pain and remained conscious. What he was feeling was several times worse than the pain he felt that fateful day on Mustafar; lying limbless, flames buring his body, next to a river of lava. This pain transcended mortality. It seemed to connect directly to the Force.

The Force absorbed the pain as it absorbed much of the energy of that spell. The endlessly deep black well that is the Dark Side of the Force surged within him. Never before had he felt the power of the Dark Side like he did at that moment. Riding on the torrent of the Force flowing through him, he lifted himself upon his feet and faced Voldemort. _Now you will pay._

It was clear from the look of unabashed shock on Voldemort's face, that he had not expected to see Darth Vader alive. Vader ignited his lightsaber once more. The familiar searing hiss, followed by the crackling hum, was but one instrument in the symphony of Dark Side energies that coursed through him.

Without a word, Darth Vader raised his lightsaber to cast it at Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort instantly cried out, "Expelliarmus!"

Vader's lightsaber flew out of his had and landed a few feet from Voldemort. Voldemort broke into another enraging grin.

Hatred. The symphony was now complete. Rage, fear, pain, and hatred; all played together, and whose song called forth such power from the Dark Side as Darth Vader had never experienced.

Here was danger. He was so linked to the Force he could get lost in it; it could consume him eternally. If he drank too deeply from this well, he would fall in, never to return. The dark side would do more than permanently disfigure his body, it would destroy his flesh, like a moth in a flame.

Time slowed down. Darth Vader saw Voldemort lift his wand and start to mouth another spell, but before he breathed the first word, Vader unleashed a blast of violet Force lightning. The sizzling, snapping, hissing bolts lasted for several seconds. Voldemort's body writhed and spasmed on the dirt. His wand flew from his grasp and he fell impotently to the dirt.

Darth Vader walked over and let out another blast. Voldemort screamed as though he was suffering the Cruciatus curse. Darth Vader stood over Voldemort's smoking form. His snake-like face was twisted in agony, his breathing shallow and ragged. Beneath his mask, Vader wore a rather satisfied smile. _Arrogant fool._

Darth Vader was about to let fly another blast but then remembered the experience of his master. That night when he killed Mace Windu, Darth Sidious maimed himself through unleashing too much dark power. If Vader descended further into the Dark Side of the Force, he too would suffer irreparable damage. Changing his mind, he summoned his lightsaber into his hand.

Darth Vader was breathing heavily. Through his vocalizer he spoke softly to the wretched form lying before him. "I invited you to learn from the wisdom of my master, but you rejected my offer. Your arrogance has been your undoing. Now you will die."

As Vader lifted his lightsaber, Voldemort inserted one finger into a small pocket on his smoldering robe. Vader swung down. There was a flash and a pop and Darth Vader's lightsaber effortlessly cleaved Tatooine soil. Voldemort was gone.

Vader looked around rapidly, seeking Voldemort on the rooftops, in the shadows, everywhere. All he saw was Voldemort's slender stick lying impotently on the dirt. He picked it up and fingered it carefully.

Darth Vader stepped back towards the wreckage of his shuttlecraft. As he did so, he called down another shuttle to pick him up immediately.

Far, far away, in the corner of a dark and empty cave, Voldemort contemplated power – and the need for a new wand.


End file.
